


A Moment of Clemency

by nightserenade



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-20
Updated: 2011-07-20
Packaged: 2017-10-21 14:26:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/226198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightserenade/pseuds/nightserenade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's only a little tipsy, which is surprising for him, when Castiel finds himself being dragged out of his cabin and into a jeep parked right outside by one Dean Winchester.</p><p>Apparently it's time for him to learn how to hotwire and drive a car, right then and there. Because it's important, because it's necessary. It is, definitely, considering the lives they live now, but he can see through to Dean's real motives. He wants to get him out of that cabin for a while, away from the pills and the alcohol that threatens to consume him every waking moment. He's afraid one day Castiel will just take too much, drink too much, and the next time he sees him it'll be at his burial.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Moment of Clemency

He's only a little tipsy, which is surprising for him, when Castiel finds himself being dragged out of his cabin and into a jeep parked right outside by one Dean Winchester.

Apparently it's time for him to learn how to hotwire and drive a car, right then and there. Because it's important, because it's necessary. It is, definitely, considering the lives they live now, but he can see through to Dean's real motives. He wants to get him out of that cabin for a while, away from the pills and the alcohol that threatens to consume him every waking moment. He's afraid one day Castiel will just take too much, drink too much, and the next time he sees him it'll be at his burial.

It isn't like Dean doesn't drink, he does. He drinks on the days of the week that remind him of Sam, which is every day that ends with 'y'. But he never drinks excessively, not since that time when the croats attacked and a lot of people died under his watch. He blames himself for any and all of the lives lost at Camp Chitaqua, and that blame intensified when he had most certainly believed they wouldn't have died if he hadn't been completely drunk.

The doors shut noisily, Dean in the driver's seat at first because he's taking them to a more deserted part of the camp. Just in case something happens; don't want someone to accidentally get run over or hit or anything. Once they find a spot they get out of the car and switch places.  
Castiel lets his hands rest gently on the steering wheel, just letting himself get adjusted to the situation.

He doesn't really care for driving, or the idea of it. Probably because he hasn't been human for that long, and has never gotten used to the idea of vehicles; flying was so much more smoother and faster, driving is so different. But none of that matters now, and he knows it's something that could mean life over death, because being able to work a car means if he's in a tight situation he can drive away, instead of trying to run. Knowing how to drive could save his life.

And isn't that a funny thing for him to worry about?

He actually doesn't. Not in the way that most would. He doesn't want to live, doesn't want to be human, doesn't want to be part of this world that is decayed and rotting away. The only reason he's still here and hasn't drank and/or drugged himself into oblivion is because of Dean.  
Now that Sam is gone, Dean relies on him. Needs him to always be there. And Castiel, he just can't bring himself to leave him like that. Not again. Not after all they've been through.

Besides, when he died where would he go? He had no answer to that and it was, to say the least, rather frightening.

“Alright,” Dean's voice brings him out of his thoughts and he turns slightly in the driver's seat so he can regard him properly. “First, you're gonna have to remove these panels. They're covering the wires you need to get to.”

Castiel does so with gentle, nimble fingers, not wanting to do any lasting damage. It's easy enough, nothing complicated. Once he's done the wires are visible and ready to be tampered with.

“There are three pairs of wires,” Dean holds up three fingers and counts down as he continues speaking. “One of those isn't important right now, the others are the ones we want. The first of the two we want is what will power the car and the last is to start it. Usually the pair to power the car is red, so we'll start there.”

Dean directs him slowly, telling him to carefully disconnect the wires and remove the plastic from the ends, before twisting them together. The point to doing this is immediately made obvious when the dashboard has power and the lights turn on. He feels a little proud of himself, and sitting next to him Dean is grinning.

“Good. Now don't touch any of the bare wires, don't wanna fry yourself.”

Right. Of course.

“To start the car you need to take the other pair of wires, usually the brown ones, and strip the insulation off the ends. Then all you need to do is touch them together, and once there's a spark and the car's starting, get the wires out of the way so you can drive. Everything after that I taught you already.”

It sounds simple, but Castiel knows it isn't. The first time he touches the wires together, nothing happens. However he reminds himself that this is important, so he tries again. Nothing. It's sort of a hit or miss thing, and it can take a while to get the spark you need to start the car. Dean offers him encouragement but it only makes him feel incompetent. Another try, and again, nothing happens.

He grits his teeth and tries again, focusing on Dean's voice and what he's telling him to do. He has to do this. Suddenly there's a spark and he hears the engine fire up. His hand shoots out to put the car into drive and it jerks into motion. They're cruising down the pathway at a crawling pace.

“There you go, knew you could do it. Now, do what I told you and just drive over–”

He cuts himself off when Castiel stops the vehicle and fitfully puts it into park like he's seen Dean do a million times. For some reason he's having a hard time breathing, his chest feels tight and he has to grip the steering wheel with his hands like it's the most important thing in the world. His eyes are burning, vision blurring, and Dean, calling his name from right beside him, sounds many miles away.

Then there's a warm hand against his face, turning it against his will, and Castiel is brought back by the dark green hues of Dean's eyes. They ground him, make him realize that he's panicking for no reason, and he lets out a choked breath that sounds too much like a sob for his liking.

"Come on, Cas. Calm down. You're okay. Come back to me now."

The seconds pass slowly, but as they pass he finds himself soothed more and more by the soft words being said to him. After many minutes, he's unsure how many since there's no way to tell, he's able to breathe normally and he's stopped shaking uncontrollably.

There's wetness on his face that hadn't been there before, and Castiel frowns to himself. The palm still resting against his face shifts until the fingertips stroke his skin, clearing the warm tracks of tears rolling down his cheeks. He's crying. Such a human thing to do. But he's human now, so it shouldn't be so foreign to him anymore.

"Look at me," Castiel says, unexpected bitter laughter bubbling and echoeing through the still vehicle. "I'm a broken, abandoned, useless thing. No wings to save me, no grace to protect me, nothing about me is worth anything and I don't deserve saving. I shouldn't be there, but I guess this is my punishment right? I have to suffer for everything I've done."

His laugher subsides into sobs and suddenly he finds himself falling forward into the warm, hard body of Dean. Arms, tough and strong, wind themselves around him and hold him tight against himself. Castiel can't move, knows it wouldn't do to even try to escape, and some part of him - a large part of him - doesn't want to move anyway.

"Maybe this is both our punishments. We've both made mistakes and fucked shit up. We have to live with it now, make the most of the crap we have. Don't have much, but you know what we do have? Each other."

And then he feels the weight inside him lift slightly, like it's being taken off his chest, off his shoulders, off his soul. But the only thing happening is Dean, who is whispering into the hair around the shell of his ear. It's comforting though, in a way he doesn't quite understand and doesn't want to analyze, not right then at least.

He curls forward, hands moving to clutch at the front of Deans jacket to bring him closer. All he knows is that the closer the other is, the more he speaks to him and touches him, and the more this terrible feeling goes away. So he wants, needs, to be closer.

It's such an odd thing to experience.

Castiel wants to say something back, because he can tell that saying all of this is hard for Dean, whose never been good with words or emotions. But he's trying, for him. Before his grace was ripped from him he'd been hard, resolute, unfeeling - for the most part. Now he's left with the swirling mess that is being human and it feels so unfair.

He doesn't need to speak, not then at least, because Dean isn't finished yet.

"You shut the hell up and don't talk like that, okay? Life's hard, I know. Fuck, Cas, _I know_." He's being squeezed, hard, like it's something very important so he better damn pay attention. Dean's next words are whispered so gently he has to concentrate to hear them even though they are pressed so close to one another.

"But you are not, and will never be, useless. And I will _not_ abandon you, Cas."

There are a warm pair of lips pressing against his temple, and Cas, surprised, jerks his head backward so that he can look up into Dean's face. He stares back at him, a weird sort of nervousness in his eyes, but doesn't move or apologize. There's an urge building inside of him, the want to be closer still burning in his chest.

Whatever expression he has on his face or in his gaze, it makes the nervousness in Dean's demeanor lessen. Then he's moving forward slowly, inch by inch, until his mouth covers Castiel's in a soft kiss.

It burns, pleasantly, and he's frozen for a few moments, trying to decide what to do. He's kissed humans before, when he was an angel, but that wasn't the same. Now that he's human, such an action – as well as ones similar to it – are much more complex. They make him feel many different emotions all at once, causing the mess inside him to intensify and make it that much more complicated and difficult to understand.

He knows he should kiss back, or move away, one or the other. The later seems like a bad idea, because being closer is what's making him feel better, so only after another moment's hesitation does Castiel lean in and press back against Dean.

The single kiss doesn't last long, nor is it the usual passionate affair that he imagines Dean is used to, but perhaps it isn't supposed to. It's an act of comfort, of reprieve, to show that there are some pleasant things still left. It's to show that he isn't alone in this turmoil, that they have each other.

They part, and Castiel feels the other place his forehead against his in an uncharacteristically tender move. It's only for a second, but that's all it takes to completely smoothe over his earlier panic attack.

Dean leans away and clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

“We should, uh, get back. In case we're needed.”

He finds himself nodding silently, before he eases the jeep along carefully at a steady pace. Castiel uses what he was taught to safely bring them back to the main part of the camp, stopping in front of his own cabin, and then gets out. Dean shoves over into the driver's seat and then gives him a weird half-salute half-wave, before driving away. He goes inside and sits down on his bed, mind muddle with thoughts.

There's something growing inside of him, something unknown at the moment, and again, he doesn't want to analyze or look to much into it just yet. It's something that's making him feel better now but will surely have a negative backlash in time, he's sure of it. However, right then, it's bareable.

Because the weight of his sins isn't gone yet, and it probably won't ever disappear completely, but it's getting better. Bit by bit, with Dean's presence guiding him, he knows he'll be able to survive. Maybe surviving isn't what he wants really, but it's the only thing he can do right now, so he might as well.

For Dean, this he would do.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a friend of mine who had given me a prompt :)


End file.
